Safe
by mandylions
Summary: Peeta is the only one who can make her feel safe. A story about Peeta's rescue from the Capitol, and Katniss's way of dealing with his absence.


I wake up sweaty and screaming. Peeta, covered in blood, being whipped over and over until he was dead. Peeta, lying on the ground, no Finnick to bring him back to life. For a minute, I don't know where I am, but then I realize that I'm under District 13. The room is pitch black, and I curl in a ball on my bed, shaking. A few seconds later, Gale rushes into my room, sees that I am okay. He sits beside me on the bed, and I can feel he doesn't know what to do, how to comfort me. "Can you just stay with me?" I murmur.

"Of course," he replies, leaning back against the headboard.

"Gale, how come they haven't sent out a rescue team for Peeta?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

"They're getting information, Catnip. It'll be soon. Within the next two days, I'd guarantee it. They want to find out where he and the others are, and they want to make sure they're not…" Gale breaks off, realizing I'm probably not the best person to say this to.

"To make sure they aren't dead," I finish for him.

"Anyways, they sent messages to their scouts. It'll be any day now." Gale strokes my hair, trying to comfort me, but it doesn't help. There's only one person I want right now.

I keep remembering those days before the second Games that Peeta and I spent together. The rooftop. The way he kept my nightmares away. I bury myself deeper in the covers, finally understanding what he means to me.

Gale holds my hand until the exhaustion from almost no sleep in about two weeks overcomes me, but when I wake up later with even more nightmares I realize how different my relationships with Peeta and Gale are.

When it's finally morning, Gale leaves because its turn to be one of the watchmen for a few hours. I remain in bed without the energy or will to get up. I know that Peeta and I have gone through something that bonds us together for the rest of our lives. No one else has ever been through the Hunger Games together, as there have never been two victors. Heck, Peeta and I have been through them together twice, both of us trying to keep the other alive. Honestly, Peeta is the only one who makes me feel safe anymore.

I feel like I should be doing more to rescue him, but what can I do? Haymitch and I aren't on speaking terms, not since I attacked him. Finnick comes to visit me once or twice a day. He understands, but he knows we can't do anything. He's hoping that when they go rescue Peeta, they'll find his Annie. Once a day my mom comes in to change the bandages on my arm. My relationship with Gale is strange, at best. He seems to realize that something has changed within me since the first Games have happened.

Hours later, my doorknob twists and someone enters. I don't turn to look who it is, because I don't particularly care. I'm lost in my thoughts when someone says, "Get out of bed."

It's Haymitch. I roll over to look at him. He's not drunk for once, and his face is covered in fading scratches. I look at him blankly. "What do you want, Haymitch?"

"I've got something for you. From Peeta. He gave it to me to give to you before you left for the Hunger Games the second time. You won't get it until I see you out of bed, showered, and dressed. You have twenty minutes, or you won't get it at all."

I glare at him. "I know what it is. I don't want it unless Peeta is 100% dead." Peeta's words echo in my head, "We'll write letters. It will be better anyway. Give them a piece of us to hold on to. Haymitch will deliver them for us if… they need to be delivered."

Haymitch glares right back. "Fine."

Finnick comes into the room. His eyes are red – he's been crying again. He misses Annie just as much as I miss Peeta. He's in a worse position than I am though – I'm pretty sure Peeta is alive. He may have given up on life, but Snow will try to use him as bait for me, his supposedly pregnant wife. Snow hates me; he'll do anything in his power to lure me to the Capitol. Killing Peeta would definitely not do that. Finnick doesn't have any idea whether or not Annie is alive, or whether the Capitol has her.

He sits in the chair that Haymitch doesn't occupy, and looks at me. "You've got to get up, Katniss. You can't stay like that forever."

His eyes go to the IV next to my bed that pumps food into me. My mother comes in to do this too – to force me to get my nutrients. I haven't been out of bed since I was rescued from the game two weeks ago. "Yes, I can."

"No, you can't," Haymitch says as gently as possible – for him, anyways. "You need to get up. Eat something. You look awful."

I simply shake my head and bury deeper into the warm covers.

"Look, Katniss. We've found Peeta. We've got the rescue mission under way. We're leaving tonight." I sit up and look at Finnick.

"You aren't coming," Haymitch says bluntly.

I turn to him. "Of course I am. Why else would you have told me about it?"

Finnick coughed. "We wanted you to know that Peeta is alive so you don't do anything too drastic... It's too dangerous for you to come. We need you for the revolution."

I stand up for the first time in days. "You can't expect me to wait around being useless while you go rescue Peeta, Haymitch."

"We don't expect you to," he answers, also standing up. It's only then that I notice the syringe in his hand.

Finnick is suddenly behind me, his hands closing over my upper arms. I struggle and struggle, but he is stronger than me. Haymitch grabs the wrist of my uninjured arm and slides the syringe into it.

"I hate you, Haymitch," I mumble. I can feel myself sinking, and Finnick catches me and lays me in bed gently.

"No news to me, sweetheart," Haymitch replies. "Nighty night."

When I wake, the room is still dark. That's the disadvantage of being underground – I have no idea what time of day it is. I'm not sure how much they put in me to make me sleep, but it couldn't have been enough to make me sleep for over a day.

Eventually, I realize I want to know what's going on. I get out of bed, shower and dress quickly, and then go to look for Gale. He must know what's going on.

I can't find Gale, but I find my mother and Prim tending to a sick man in the infirmary. She looks up, but doesn't seem surprised to see me there.

"What's going on?" I ask her. "Where's Gale?"

"He went with them on the rescue mission," Prim answers.

"What time is it?" I ask. "They drugged me so I couldn't go with them."

My mother glances up. "I know. I gave them the syrup. It's around 9:00. They gave you enough to sleep through the night."

"You gave them the syrup?" I don't want to be mad at my mother, but I sometimes I can't help myself. "I could've gone to help them!"

"I think Finnick, Haymitch, and Gale can handle it for themselves. There's quite a few of them going, but those three are going to be the only ones going into the prison," Prim answers.

I look at her. "How do you know all this?"

Prim shrugs. "I just hear things, I guess."

I leave them, a little upset that they were in on the plan and I wasn't. I think about going back to bed, but I'm sick of that room. I decide to wander around what had become of District 12.

There's a lot to see. There's the infirmary, the living quarters, the kitchens. There are a lot more people than I realized. I find Peeta's father in the kitchen, baking, and automatically feel bad. "Hi, Mr. Mellark," I mumble.

He smiles. "Hi, Katniss. I'm sorry I haven't come to visit you."

I shake my head. "I would have come to visit you, had I known you were here…" My voice trails off into space.

"It's alright," Mr. Mellark replies gently. "After all you've been through I think can forgive you."

I give him a miserable smile. "I really hope Peeta is okay."

"Yes," he says. "I do too."

He pulls a stool up for me, and I watch him as he yanks a loaf of soft bread out of the oven, sitting it on the counter swiftly. His motions show years of practice. He begins to make a new batch, then looks at me. "Would you like to learn?"

I nod. He and I spend the rest of the day together baking. First bread, then cookies and cakes. I wish Peeta was there to ice them. Then, they'd be perfect.

Around 7 that night, I leave him. We're done baking, and he says he's got watch tonight. I wish him safety, then begin to make my way up the maze of tunnels.

About halfway there, I hear distorted noises. I pause, making my way closer to them, and hear the hoarse yells of pain. I recognize the voice immediately. Even though it's husky and painful sounding, I know the boy perfectly. I rush into the room, my focus automatically going to the TV.

There is my Peeta, tied to a whipping post by his wrists, half naked, blood stained and broken. His back is a mass of raw meat, red and bloody. His arms are strained tightly, the muscles in them sticking out profusely. He's trying to pull his wrists free of the post, but he's in a lot of pain. At first, I only notice the blood, and then I notice the sheen of sweat that makes his hair stick to his forehead. I can barely stop myself before I scream. Blood drips from his back, soaking the waistband of the loose white pants he's wearing. Someone tries to take me out of the room, but I resist. I don't notice anyone in the room. I stand in the doorway, watching Peeta being whipped until it's over and he's passed out. I leave, not saying anything to anyone, and lock myself in my room.

That night, I have nightmares of a new kind.

The days pass, in which Peeta doesn't appear on television again. I'm not sure how long it's been, but I think two more weeks. My mother's gone back to pumping me full of nutrients. The slice on my arm is healed. I don't remember much. I sleep as often as I can, usually waking with nightmares. The only difference from my previous isolation is now I get out of bed every few days and shower. Mr. Mellark visits every day but neither of us says anything.

By the end of the second week, I'm about ready to give up. I don't even attempt to sleep anymore. I just lay curled in my bed. My mother comes to insert the IV when its time to "eat", and I watch it. Three times I became angry and pulled it out, but my mother just bandaged the spot and re-entered it. I'd had an IV in both of my arms and in my right hand. The pain is a distraction for a few short minutes. Otherwise, Peeta is all I think about.

I don't even look up when I hear my door open. "Katniss?"

The voice surprises me, and I sit up quickly, turning to look. "Peeta!"

He doesn't look any worse for the wear. His hair is longer and shaggy looking, but his blue eyes hold the same kindness I remember.

I stand; feel the IV that my mother has left me with tugging at my hand. I start to pull it out but Peeta rushes towards me. "Don't," he says, his hands covering mine. His voice is soft and quiet. He seems to be moving a bit stiffly, but he's okay. He's okay.

I hug him tightly, my arms wrapping around his waist, and suddenly I'm sobbing into his chest. He seems a little skinnier than he was at the games, but not too bad. His arms come around me, one hand stroking from the top of my head to my lower back. "Why are you crying?" he asks.

"Because you're here!" I exclaim. "You're here, and you're safe!"

He laughs in my ear. "I am."

"I missed you," I manage to get out.

His head rests on my own, and he lets out a little sigh. "I missed you too, Katniss."

We stand in silence for a few minutes, neither of us wanting to speak. Eventually, I look up at him. His blue eyes sparkle at me, and I reach up and kiss him. His lips respond gently, but I can tell he's confused. "I love you, Peeta," I murmur, looking down at the floor, but then up at him.

"I love you too," he says. "But what about…"

"Gale tried to comfort me one night when he heard me screaming," I explained. "I didn't feel safe. Not like I feel with you."

Peeta smiles and leans down to kiss me.

***  
The end. I hope you enjoyed it. :)


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